


Baby, It's Fate

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [19]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Handcuffed Together, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 05:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1676345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not a drama queen. I just don't see anyone else stuck together with magical, special metal handcuffs, do you?"</p>
<p>(Tumblr prompt: Handcuffed together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura for the beta.
> 
> This is one of several handcuffed together prompts I've filled over the last few months. @.@

"Why does this shit always happen to me?" Clint says, hanging his head. Next to him—right next to him—Coulson raises both eyebrows and makes an uncharacteristic _What the fuck?_ gesture with his free hand.

"I didn't say just me," Clint says quickly, because it's not like Coulson's not in the same fucking predicament as Clint, and he maybe feels a little bit bad about that, despite the fact that this is, for once, totally not his fault. "All I'm saying," Clint says, "is that you have to admit, this kind of thing does tend to happen to me more than it does to the others!"

"Please," Natasha scoffs, rolling her eyes. "This kind of thing happens to all of us. Don't be such a drama queen."

Clint rubs his handcuffed wrist with his free hand. The metal is tight against his skin, and it's vaguely achy. "I'm not a drama queen. I just don't see anyone else stuck together with magical, special metal handcuffs, do you?"

"They're not magic," Tony says from across the room. They're all sitting in Tony's oversized kitchen, and Tony's at the counter, scribbling something in his notebook. "Stop saying they're magic. Things aren't magic. They're metal, it's just—a really rare metal."

"Are you absolutely sure you don't have anything here that can break it apart?" Clint asks, ignoring the magic comments, because that's an argument he's not getting into again. Tony can say and think whatever he wants, and the handcuffs themselves might not be magic, but Clint knows better than most people that magic is real, and that it is terrifying.

"Sorry, can't help you," Tony says, apologetically. "Nothing to do but wait for the others to come back."

"You have like fifty million tools in your workshop, and you're supposed to be some kind of crazy engineering genius too, right? Build a handcuff breaking robot or something."

"I'm a genius. I can build shit. But unfortunately for you," Tony says, turning so he can point at the handcuffs with his pen, "those things are pure adamantium. Think of it like the diamonds of heavy metal: only adamantium can penetrate adamantium. And unfortunately for you guys, there's only one other person in this country who currently has any. Don't worry though, I'm sure Steve and Thor and Bruce will find him soon enough."

Clint narrows his eyes. "If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not helping."

"Yes, because this is clearly the worst thing that's even befallen you," Coulson says, sighing. It's the first thing he's said in a long while, and Clint is a little surprised.

"Come on, it's not like this is how I imagined spending my day," Clint says.

"No, I'm sure you had an important day planned, full of dicking around with your bow and arrows and playing video games with Thor," Coulson snaps. He sounds cranky, and Tony's eyes bug out a little at the word _dicking_. Across the table, Natasha silently slides off her chair and way-too-casually walks closer to the door. Clint narrows his eyes at her, but she's intentionally not looking in their direction.

"It's not like you seem to be having much fun either, sir," Clint bites out, and even Tony is starting to edge towards the door now.

"Or maybe I don't think it's that bad to be chained temporarily to my—my—you," Coulson stumbles a little, because they haven't really labeled what they are and Clint's face grows hot, "and it's just a little bit hurtful that you seem like you'd rather be having a root canal?"

Clint blinks, stunned, and tries to come up with an appropriate response, because that's just—no.

"Okay," Tony says, slinging an arm around Natasha's shoulders. "We're going to leave you to have your horribly awkward personal conversation in peace, and we'll be back when we hear from the others, sound good? Good. Don't have make up sex on the table, please."

Natasha smirks as she lets Tony lead her out of the kitchen, and Clint waits until the door is closed behind them, before turning back to Coulson.

Coulson's lips are pressed into a thin line and he's looking straight ahead. Clint's reasonably certain that if Coulson was able to, he'd be crossing his arms right now. Clint opens and closes his mouth a few times, because clearly, he's inadvertently hurt Coulson's feelings, and despite the slight annoyance that still lingers, Clint doesn't want to make it worse.

Naturally, the first thing he gets out is, "What the hell, Coulson?"

Coulson's eyebrows draw together and the corners of his mouth turn down just a little bit more, and Clint wants to smack himself in the face.

"What I mean is," Clint says, "why would you leap to that conclusion?"

Coulson shifts a little. "It didn't seem like such a big leap," he says, and Clint has never heard him this sullen before. Somehow, that's what makes Clint's annoyance disappear, and he smiles fondly, because Coulson lets his guard down enough around Clint to be a little bit sullen and petty and juvenile.

"You know, it's mostly the prospect of being chained down that I object to," Clint says.

Coulson looks sideways at him.

"…when it's not in a kinky way, anyway," Clint adds, shrugging, and Coulson's frown lessens, like he's considering it for the future. Clint starts reaching for Coulson with his free hand and then decides that's nonsense, and instead laces the fingers of their linked hands together.

"Maybe it's a bit of an overreaction," Coulson admits. "But I didn't think spending some time together would be so terrible for you."

"Coulson, there's a difference between spending some time together and being handcuffed together!"

"Like I said, a bit of an overreaction," Coulson says again, and then his voice gets really quiet. "I just thought—I like spending time with you. And we haven't seen each other a lot lately."

Clint's really close to saying something snarky again, like, _Whose fault is that?_ or _Did someone force you onto the Bus?_ but he stops himself, because he knows Coulson loves his new team. Plus, it's not like he has any claim to Coulson, anyway, just because they like to have sex and hang out, just the two of them, whenever Coulson's in town, and—

Huh.

"Are we in a relationship?" Clint asks.

Coulson squirms a little. "Do you want us to be?"

Clint's smile grows until his mouth hurts with it. "We are!" he crows, and then leans in and kisses Coulson, who only gives a tiny, muffled sound of surprise, before his lips part and he kisses Clint back.

Clint tries to bring his hands up on reflex, and then pulls out of the kiss when his movement is restricted by their cuffed hands. Coulson's smiling at him, though, and Clint puts their foreheads together. "This kind of sucks," Clint says. "But only the handcuffed part. And only because it's not in a kinky way. I like that it's you."

Coulson's smile turns devilish. "Who says it's not in a kinky way?"

End.

**Author's Note:**

> (They find Wolverine eventually. And then have to bribe him with beer to come help out.)


End file.
